


Late Hours

by Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Slice of Life, sweet babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 02:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13021014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins/pseuds/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins
Summary: Shadows of the past still haunt the present, sometimes it's good to have someone.





	Late Hours

The scream of hot metal blasting into a million pieces was sadly all too familiar, watching as another mech howled in pain their frame melting at the contact. He ignored the mech running past him, jumping onto another crystal to get a better view. The battle was violent and in full spin, mechs on both sides roaring battle cries and mad shrieks of pain.

He hissed hearing a faint blast sound behind his head, spotting a sniper on the other side, drawing his blades before descending once again. He had to admit it they were outnumbered and falling back, sadly they couldn’t hold onto this Energon mine much longer, the Autobots were taking over. He snarled launching himself once again into the mess that was the battle.

Watching the world around him as Decepticons were blown to bits their frames still hot with Energon. He didn’t hear it until it was too late the zip of a blast, turning only to see the bright ball of blue slam into his helm. Unable to process anything else as his body when into emergency recharge.

 

“Hang in there dipstick.” An oily rough voice echoed.

“Mmm?” He groaned in pain his helm felt like it was splitting, slowly he on-lined his optics, waiting for his vision to clear. Finding himself in a medical area of some sort.

“Some lucky dipstick you are.” He knew that voice, the grumpy undertone and overall tired feel of it.

“RATCHET?!” He stood up instantly hissing and falling back down, slamming his helm into the berth.

“Drift you dipstick!” Ratchet rushed over, hovering over him, holding a light into his optics. “Slow, slow you know what that word means right?” He shook his helm. “I think I like 'Dipstick' more than your new ‘designation’ Deathslag something of so sort?”

“Deadlock, it’s Deadlock.” He corrected the Medic knowing that with Ratchet it would be a losing battle.

“Well I’m calling you Dipstick, sit up slowly Dip, you took one pit of a hit.” Ratchet picked up a datapad reading over it. “Almost blew your helm off.”

Deadlock frowned, hunching over holding his helm in his servos. “Wait, how come you’re fixing me up?”

“Found your poor spark among the bodies, slapped some Autobot badge over yours and luckily no one has recognized your poor aft.” Ratchet set the pad down. “Looks like you’re ready for some Energon and a light walk around, test those motor functions.”

Deadlock took the cube drinking it slowly and tossing his legs over the side of the berth, standing tall yet holding onto the berth until he was comfortable standing. Taking a few steps eager to get back to his side. “Why?”

“You’re frustrating, more frustrating than Orion or Roller and that takes a special skill. Somehow you’re lucky enough to even be still functional now.”

He laughed. “Luck has nothing to do with it doctor, I’ve got you.”

Ratchet groaned. “Dipstick.”

 

“GAH!” He jumped off his berth landing poorly on the floor, hissing as he checked the time, finding that everyone should be asleep on the Lost Light. “Damn.” He hissed getting to his feet, unsettled by the violent memory, and the strange talk after it. Leaving his hub to explore the ship, glad that it was quiet, finding very few mechs wandering the halls.

Stopping at the medical hub, knocking on the door.

“Something told me I’d have to deal with you Dipstick.”

“Still calling me that?” Drift vented rubbing his helm.

“You’re still one, so, yes.” Ratchet set down another test tube. “Why are you up?”

“Shadows of the past, you?” He sat down on an open berth, staring down at his peds.

Ratchet frowned, typing on a personal datapad. “It’s quiet now, but honestly? I’m not sure, think about it we’ve been fighting for so long I’m worried that we might not ever know what it’s like to not fight.”

“I admit it’s still strange to be wearing an Autobot badge, waking up and no hearing bombs or shouting.” Drift frowned, watching his peds dangle a little. “It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore, I didn’t like who I was when I was Deadlock, and before then I was Drift but...I wasn’t myself, I was addicted. And now here I am, Drift again, just drifting.”

Ratchet stopped setting his datapad down, sitting next to him. “You’re Drift, an Autobot who Orion found years ago, and brought to me. Save your dipstick self again and again, and sure you’ve made some bad choices, I’ve made bad choices, and that’s okay Drift.”

“So...What do I do now?” He asked playing with his servos, unable to look at the older mech.

“Whatever you want Drift, but I’m still gonna call you Dipstick.” Ratchet teased, something he rarely did.

“Grumpy old man.” Drift rolled his optics.

“You remember what I said to you when we first met?”

“Who could I forget? I think about what you said almost daily…”

Ratchet smiled, shaking his helm. “Good, back then I knew you were good, and I didn’t want to give up on you, lucky we’re both stubborn.”

They laughed at that, enjoying the overall feeling of talking with someone. Leaning slightly on Ratchet’s frame, taking in the moment. “I’m glad I met you.”

Ratchet rested his helm on top of Drift’s. “Glad I met you too Dipstick.”


End file.
